Today was a day of slamming doors. That's right . The tween was upset again. She had to wear a skirt , of all things. How horrible. A skirt and not pants. The door slam was the subtle, firm, but not hard enough for Mom to come after me slam. Well, I suppose I should have done something, even for the subtle door slam, but..
Usually what happens in this situation is that I stop to pray for God to help them see they don't need to get so mad at me when I tell them to do something. It's not like I asked them to run 200 miles. About 5 seconds into my prayer I end up praying for myself.
He always brings something back to my memory. Today he brought back memories regarding door slams. I slammed and slammed and more slammed doors after our son, Levi died. Sure I would've ran the 200 miles before I gave Levi up, but was God in control or not? Did God lose a battle with Satan? Of course not.
The ole tempter may have gotten me to slam the door in God's face a few times because I was upset, but by golly, he couldn't separate me from the God that waited patiently outside my door for me, just like I waited outside for my little tween.
And like I said, I end up praying for myself. "Oh, yeah, I DO remember when I did that. I am SO sorry God. When will I ever grow up? And thanks God, for being so patient and kind and just waiting for me."
There's so much of God's patience to thank him for. Ain't God Good?
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